Where of old, responsive as the wind and foam, Rose the joyous echoes, Desolate I roam, nor find one lingering sound to hail the wanderer home. Silence, long unbroken, Break thy rigid spell! Free the fairy captives of the mountain dell, if yet in veiling mist the mimic minions dwell. Children of the distance, Shall I call in vain? From your slumbers waking, Speak to me again as erst in childhood woke your soft